


you should be mine for halloween

by scoutshonour



Series: home is wherever i’m with you [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween Costumes, Multi, Polyamory, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: "I'm vetoing any Twilight ideas, by the way."Steve perks up, sitting upright. "That would be perfect—""No," Jonathan and Nancy say at the same time.(or: stoncy halloween fluff)





	you should be mine for halloween

**Author's Note:**

> it's halloween?????????????? i thought WHY NOT revisit the fluffiest thing i've ever written and give these kids some more happiness
> 
> you don't need to have read the multi-chapter and two one-shots to understand this (but, like, do it anyway lol). modern times, no supernatural, just happiness for everyone! 
> 
> also there are spoilers from the 1996 scream movie, in case you haven't seen it or anything??? just putting that out there lmfao

For a second, Jonathan thinks he's hallucinating.

It wouldn't be the most outlandish idea; between his second year at NYU and his part-time job at a photo supplies store, he is perpetually exhausted. It doesn't help that he's running on a few hours of sleep and coffee.

But he blinks hard a few times. Even steps back outside to make sure he stepped into the correct apartment, which he did.

He's definitely not imagining this.

It's October first and their—his, Nancy's, and Steve's—apartment is covered in Halloween decorations. Orange and purple streamers hang off the walls, little witches and pumpkins sit on the kitchen counter and coffee table, a skeleton hangs off their front door, and an extremely real-looking coffin leans against their sofa.

At no point during this month will he forget that it's October.

Jonathan drops his backpack by the door. "Hello?" he calls out. The corner of his mouth raises into a slight smile. "Anyone home?"

Silence. No one's shoes are by the door. He belatedly remembers then that Nancy has an evening class and Steve's working until eight.

He'd left their apartment four hours ago for a class, grabbing coffee afterwards with friends from the same class. (He still has his coffee cup, the one his friend, Matthew, doodled all over. He doesn't plan on throwing it out.)

They wouldn't have needed to leave the apartment for another few hours after Jonathan left. _Now_ he understands this glorious purple and orange mess.

He pictures Nancy and Steve decorating their space together after he'd gone to class; Steve lifting Nancy up so she could put a plush, black cat on top of their fridge, Nancy draping a streamer around Steve's neck and waist. He imagines one chasing the other with the skeleton, laughter bouncing in the hallway.

Jonathan can't stop smiling.

He sends a quick text in their group chat: **_something's off in the apartment, i can't tell what it is ... is this incandescent lighting?_ ** He puts his phone away, knowing that they're both busy. It's only five in the afternoon. He'll see them later, and he does have time to kill.

But before doing schoolwork even crosses his mind, he catches the coffin in the corner of his eyes.

He kicks the door shut behind him and gets a better look at the coffin. (Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if it was real). He could probably fit inside.

So, of course, he climbs in.

It's more spacious than he expected. As he stretches his legs out in front of them, he figures the three of them could fit in together with someone sprawled out over the other two. He lays down until his head touches the wood. It's shockingly comfortable. He won't remember falling asleep.

"He's so tired _._ How does he still look tired in his sleep?"

"I'm pretty sure it's just his face, Nance. If he isn't a vampire for Halloween, I'm suing. It's perfect! He's always pale, and now he's literally sleeping in a coffin. I need ten more pictures."

Jonathan hears the _snap_ of someone's phone. He can't be bothered to gripe about it.

"He’s going to get back pain, watch. This idiot, who falls asleep in a _coffi_ decoration?"

"Our boyfriend," Steve replies. Jonathan's eyes are shut, but he knows Steve's smiling. "The vampire."

"Do you have a thing for vampires? If I knew you had a boner for Edward Cullen, I totally would've dressed up as him last year. You could’ve been my Bella.”

" _Edward?_ Nance, c'mon, Jasper was the hot one. Fuck Edward and Jacob. I’ll be your Alice instead.”

Jonathan groans at the stiffness in his body, finally sitting up. He winces at the light. Huh, maybe he is a vampire. "You're too loud and excited to be talking about Twilight."

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Through the space between his fingers, he sees Nancy and Steve sitting in front of him, on the carpeted-floor. She's nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, and his arm's wrapped snugly around her waist.   

"You fell asleep in a coffin," Nancy says. Her voice is too scratchy to sound teasing.  

"Welcome back," Steve greets softly.

Jonathan's eyes crinkle with a smile. "Hi." He wills himself to sit up on his knees so he can properly see them both. "I'm impressed by what you've done with the place."

"You remember last year? _Some_ one,” Nancy says, bumping her shoulder against Steve's, “had a scarecrow on our bedroom door that spoke every-time it moved. Stupid shit like _boo_ that wasn't scary, unless it's the middle of the night. I'd go up to pee, scream, then he'd wake up, come out the room to find me, and scream. Then we'd just be screaming like a couple of idiots who get scared by their _own_ decorations."

Steve laughs at the memory. He presses his face into her neck, murmuring something about being her idiot. It wipes the eye-roll right off Nancy's face as she fails at biting back a smile.

Jonathan's mind goes back to last October, before they were all dating. Way back when he thought he was a gigantic, third-wheel. He remembers Nancy scoffing about the decoration, but not well. He'd been distracted with the hand she had on his knee. But he smiled along and nodded while he internally freaked out because _she was touching his knee._

Jonathan chuckles. "Not as idiotic as someone who falls asleep in a coffin decoration?"

"Nothing is that idiotic," Steve says, grinning. "C'mon, Edward, let's go lay down."

Nancy grabs Jonathan's hands to pull him up to his feet. Once he steps out of the coffin, he interlaces their fingers and relishes in her thumb smoothing over his knuckle.

"What's up with the Twilight references?" Jonathan asks.

She squeezes his hand as she drags them both to their bedroom. Her grin is bright and aimed at Steve. "He probably thinks it's necessary, since, y'know. We're dating a vampire."

The sound of their mixed laughter is pleasant and so _warm_ that Jonathan can only pretend to sigh. "Will I ever live this down?"

"Nope!" they chirp.

They change into their pyjamas which mostly consists of each other's clothes. Nancy wears an old _Kiss_ shirt that belongs to Jonathan and a pair of Steve's boxers; Steve wears Nancy's yellow crop-top and a pair of Jonathan's boxers; Jonathan has one of Nancy's oversized Harry Potter shirts and Steve's boxers. They don't plan it and laugh, hard, as they crawl into bed.

They lay together, feet tangled up and knees bumping. Nancy reads a _thick,_ thousand-and-something page novel she's been chipping away at these past few weeks. Jonathan attempts to finish a light reading for a class tomorrow.

Steve's content just watching them. He does that a lot, like Jonathan and Nancy are captivating, like it can occupy him for hours on end. Jonathan doesn't think Steve knows how comforting it is.

"Any ideas for what we should dress up as?" Nancy says sometime later, her eyes still focussed on the page.

"We have thirty days," Jonathan says.

"We need time to _prepare,”_  Steve stresses.

"You saw our apartment.” She sets her book down by the nightstand and flops onto her stomach. "Steve goes all out."

"So what do you and I have to do?"

Nancy darts forward to kiss a mole underneath Steve's chin. "He'll take care of the costumes. All we have to do is look pretty. You'll have no problem with that."

"You're so lame," Jonathan says, annoyed that his cheeks heat up.

"Like you're not flustered."

Steve brightens. He stretches his arms around their shoulders and sighs, pleased from how they snuggle up onto his chest.  "Finally, someone other than me is called lame. Someone who deserves to be called it, too."

Nancy snorts. She pokes Steve’s stomach. "Jonathan, did I tell you what he said to me when we got coffee before his class today? He said, out loud, ‘Nance, you’re _hotter_ than this latte.’"

"Did you have to tell him that? Okay, you know what, it maybe wasn't one of my best lines, but it wasn't that _bad._ "

Jonathan grins. A teasing remark sits on the tip of his tongue, but it’s replaced with a sudden question. "Wait, so are we matching?"

"Yeah," Steve says. He rubs his hand up and down Jonathan's arm. "If you want. Nance and I matched last year, you remember—"

"I have the pictures, Han and Leia," he reminds him. He remembers Nancy threatening her own hair that if it didn't cooperate her, she'd cut it all off, all of Steve's terrible jokes ("Hey Johnny Boy, don't I look... _Han_ some?"), how they both joked that Jonathan was their Luke, which—

At the time, it was weird. Now, it kind of makes him laugh, because god, none of them were good at dealing with their crushes. Certainly not himself, considering he took about a million pictures of them the entire night. He'd felt like someone on the outside looking in.

And now he'll be someone _in_ the million pictures with them. His heart flutters at the thought.

He used to think things like matching costumes were stupid and unnecessary. (Still kind of does, a little.) Then he saw Nancy and Steve's relationship right up front and found it genuinely endearing. Then he started _dating_ them and he finally found couple-y things like that kind of, a little bit, a _smidge_ bit adorable. And now, curled up next to them, the idea of matching Halloween costumes fills him with a warm sense of domesticity.

Maybe sometime ago he'd hate it, but he doesn't feel like that right now. Not when they're both smiling nervously at him, and he's smiling back. "That'd—that'd be nice. I'd like that."

"We're going to be so fucking cute," Nancy declares as leans over to kiss Jonathan.

He makes a pleased noise against Steve's mouth. "But you're both already cute," Jonathan says instinctively. He doesn't expect their matching blushes, Nancy smiling into Steve's shoulder or Steve's, "you did not just say that"—which is even more cute.

"See? Absolutely adorable."

They're both grinning, but they're quiet."What?" Jonathan finally asks.

"We need a second," Steve says, "that was good."

"It wasn't even good," Nancy continues, "we're just caught off guard. Stop looking at me. I'm going to keep blushing."

"Same goes for me, Johnny Boy."

He wants to take a picture of them, of their half-smiles and their semi-flustered faces, struck for the millionth time with the thought of how beautiful they are. But he's too cozy, so he settles for the alternative. "Seriously, we've been together for like, nine months, I've complimented you guys a billion—"

"Close your eyes!" Nancy says. She laughs as she lightly shoves his shoulder.

"She was like this when I said the latte thing, too," Steve says, his eyes shining when they shift between Nancy and Jonathan. "She told me to go away for five minutes. Every time I peeked at her, she looked lovestrucken."

Nancy widen her eyes and lays her hand flat against Steve's chest. "I'm not lovestruck."

Steve chuckles, winding his fingers through her hair. "You're absolutely, utterly smitten with us, aren't ya?"

Nancy softens. She brushes her nose against his. "Just a little."

He kisses her nose. Jonathan can pinpoint the moment Nancy completely _melts,_ mostly because it's a second before _he_ melts. "Just a little _absolutely_ , utterly—"

"If I tell you I love you, will you shut up and cuddle? I'll be the big spoon," she offers. Like she isn't always the big spoon with him anyway.

Steve's already shuffling, turning over to face Jonathan and snaking an arm around his waist, when the words, "You already know the answer to that," tumble past his mouth.

"I love you," she says solemnly. She wraps her arm around his chest and her fingers reach across to rest on Jonathan's waist. Steve instinctively curls into her touch.

It's moments like these, lazy, quiet moments in bed that Jonathan wants to hold onto forever, where he fights the urge to take a picture with his camera.  That he has to remind himself that tucking this memory away, into the corners of his heart, is good enough.

Nancy foots Jonathan's thigh. "I love you too, nerd."

Jonathan's mouth cracks into a stupid grin. "Oh, I'm sorry, I can't look at you, so I don't think I can respond—"

"Nance," Steve tuts, "you've hurt Edward's feelings—"

"Wait, stop—"

"Now he won't sparkle for us."

"That doesn't make _sense,”_  Jonathan huffs, not really annoyed, while Nancy snorts out a laugh. He rolls over to place his textbook onto the floor, before turning back onto his side to look at them. His breath still catches when they look at him, look at him like _that,_ and he can't imagine that changing. "I'm vetoing any Twilight ideas, by the way."

Steve perks up, sitting upright. "That would be perfect—"

"No," Jonathan and Nancy say at the same time.

"I'd hate to be Bella," she adds. She wrinkles her nose.

Steve scoffs. "Who said _you'd_ be Bella?"

* * *

A week later, they’re curled up on their sofa, Catniss purring happily on Jonathan's lap.

“We’re not watching the Evil Dead remake,” Jonathan insists. "It doesn't hold a candle to the original, plus, it adds nothing new—"

"Jonathan," Nancy says tiredly, "this is the twelfth movie you've said no to. Stop being so picky."

"Nance, we're with a film snob. He's always going to be picky," Steve murmurs. He's hanging off them, his head on Jonathan's lap and his legs on Nancy's lap. Her hand absentmindedly soothes up and down his thigh.

Jonathan puffs out a breath. He flicks Steve's ear. "What's more annoying, my thing with films or your thing with your hair?"

"Both." Nancy furrows her eyebrows at the looks they give her. "What? Steve, your hair is somehow perfect even after waking up in the morning which is equally frustrating as it's hot, so all the time you spend trying to ‘fix’ it is useless. And Jonathan, I like the indie movies you recommend, but sometimes, I wanna watch trash movies. _Movies._ Not films."

"There's not a difference between films and movies."

She tilts her head to the side. "Isn't there, though?"

"Okay, let’s watch the re-make, then. Fair warning, though, I'm going to complain about, like, most things in the _movie,_ " he says pointedly, unable to keep from smiling when Nancy grins.

Steve yawns. He nestles his head closer to Jonathan's stomach. "'S the best part."

Jonathan beams, brightening when Nancy kisses his cheek. "Next time, can we watch _Scream_ , though? 'S a classic."

"I've never seen _Scream,_ " Steve says. It's the casualty in his voice that makes Jonathan sputter.

He chokes on air for a second, flabbergasted while he tries to see if Steve's joking or not. "You've—what? The most iconic horror film of all time?"

Nancy sets the half-full bowl of popcorn onto the floor with one hand, the other stroking Catniss's belly. "Here we go," she says fondly.

Steve shrugs, nodding his head at Nancy. "She hasn't seen it either."

Jonathan actually _gasps,_ darting bewildered looks at both of his partners.

She narrows her eyes and nudges Steve. "Do you enjoy throwing me under the bus? This is _exactly_ like that pineapple thing!"

"Pineapple on pizza is gross," Steve says unapologetically. "You're gross."

Nancy rolls her eyes. "Says the demon who doesn't eat macaroni and cheese without ketchup. That's—that's immoral."

"Neither of you have seen _Scream,_ so you're both gross and immoral."

"Coming from loser who saw _Mean Girls_ and _Clueless_ for the first time this year," she retorts.

"Pineapple on pizza, ketchup on mac 'n cheese.” Jonathan wags his finger between them. "You're uncultured heathens."

"You wear socks to bed," Steve says flatly.

"My feet get cold! _Nancy_ wears fingerless gloves."

"My fingers get itchy, you ass."

Steve tilts his head. "But then your fingers are still cold. That doesn't make sense."

"Neither does your habit of leaving your sweaters on the floor."

"The sweaters you always steal, you mean?"

"Jonathan steals your sweaters too!"

"Now look who's throwing someone under the bus," Jonathan teases, "and what're you talking about, huh?" He jabs Steve's ribcage, enjoying the surprised squeak he gets in return. "Like you don't love us in your clothing."

Steve lets out a scandalized-faux gasp. Poking their arms lightly, he says, "I'd like having my own clothing, more."

Nancy and Jonathan share their patented _our boyfriend is full of shit_ look, and silently decide to tickle him at the same time. "Liar," Nancy says breathlessly, grinning down at him as she tickles him.

"This is—this is an _attack_ —" He squirms, laughing uncontrollably.

"Yup," Jonathan says _._ He smiles down at Steve as he tickles his other side. "C'mon, you practically drool whenever you see Nancy in one of your sweaters—"

"Or Jonathan in your boxers."

"Fine, fine, you sadistic fuckers, stop assaulting me," he wheezes, and they comply. He makes a pleased sound, bringing himself closer until his face is buried into Jonathan's side and his thighs tucked behind Nancy's waist. "I hate you both."

Nancy hums, resting a hand on Steve's hip. "Sure you do."

"I don't," Steve quickly says, as if they needed the clarification, his voice coming out muffled.

Jonathan catches the grey flash of Catniss wandering down the hallway. Nancy nestles her head into the crook of his neck. Steve threads his fingers with Jonathan's, then with the hand Nancy has on his own hip. "Yeah, we know," he says softly.

Curled with Nancy and Steve, Jonathan glows.

* * *

Jonathan's usually the first to wake up.

He always finds himself entangled with Nancy and Steve. This morning is no different.

He wakes up, tucked in between them. He’s got a mouthful of Nancy's hair, her hand curled up on his chest, and Steve's arm tightly slung across his waist.

There are a lot of things about Nancy and Steve that make him feel safe—like how Nancy always alternates between brushes their hands and interlacing their fingers whenever they’re in public. Or how Steve’ll use every pet-name ever used, ever, jokingly and not. Or the _have fun, be safe, call if you need anything, love you_ texts when, at most, he’ll go out to a friends’ place to take pictures or marathon movies.

There are a lot of things about Nancy and Steve make him feel safe, but waking up with them, like this—knowing that they’ve all got each other, always, in every way imaginable—might just be what makes him feel the safest.

He reluctantly disentangles himself from the pile they’ve made. Cautiously draws his arm away from underneath arms and backs. Lingers for a moment, smiling down at their relaxed, peaceful expressions.

He pads quietly across the room. Right before he closes the door, he glances over his shoulder.

Nancy and Steve gravitate towards each other, closing the space Jonathan left behind.

They reach for each other, even in sleep.

It settles an ease in Jonathan’s bones. Any grumpiness typically felt within the first hour of waking up is gone.

He brushes his teeth, showers, and decides to make breakfast.

He's still half-asleep, making toast when someone’s chin gently slides onto his shoulder. Jonathan jumps, nearly yelping. He only relaxes when he feels an apologetic kiss pressed against his neck and Nancy's strong, comforting arms looping around his neck.

"Did I scare you?"

"Mhm," he says, a slight laugh tumbling past his lips. "I forgive you."

"I didn't apologize," she says.

He swallows back another laugh and reaches out to cup her cheeks. She's warm all over and leans into his touch, prompting him to gently pull her closer until they're pressed together. "No toast for you, then,” he says. His voice sounds much softer than he expected.

"I don't want your burnt toast, anyway. Steve makes better toast."

"At least I can cook," he says. He takes delight in her wide-eyed scoff and shocked, almost-offended smile.

"I can cook!"

"You've made about, what, _four_ fires in the past two months? One making Ramen, right?"

Nancy groans. She hides her face in his shoulder. "Steve told you?"

He carefully pries her face back into his field of vision, laughing at the red in her cheeks. "Yup. It's just—who fucks up _Ramen?”_ He only laughs harder when she swats his shoulder.

"Who needs to know how to make Ramen when they're dating Gordon fucking Ramsey? Steve'll feed us for the rest of our lives."

"At least pretend to like my burnt toast," he says, reluctantly turning away from her to check on the eggs. "And my dry, bland scrambled eggs."

She grabs his chin and tilts his face down as she tilts hers up. They meeting in the middle for a kiss. "Of course," she murmurs against his mouth, turning Jonathan into mush.

"You _cooked!?_ "

Jonathan and Nancy snap their heads to look at Steve. He lingers by the end of the hallway with his ridiculous bed-head and twinkling eyes.

"Nah, I think you made this in your sleep," Jonathan quips.

Steve rolls his eyes playfully. He smiles and lumbers over to Nancy, kissing her forehead in greeting. "I know this wasn't you, Nance," he murmurs. His eyelids droop and there’s a hint of a smile when she kisses him back on the corner of his mouth. "You can't cook for shit."

"I know. So does our boyfriend. You told him about the Ramen thing?" She raises an eyebrow, amused at Steve's sheepish, semi-apologetic look.

“In my defence,” he starts slowly, raising his hands, “it was super hilarious. He laughed so hard he cried. Like, an actual tear slid down his face, it was beautiful, I took a picture, hold on, I'll show—Jonathan, _you're burning the eggs!"_

It takes a solid two minutes for them to stop laughing at Jonathan. Despite this, they try the eggs because Jonathan feels incredibly bad. Nancy spits it out before she can pretend to like it. Steve promises to cook them something else.

"What about your toast?" Nancy asks as Jonathan's already carelessly tosses them into the garbage can.

"We all know we'd rather have Steve's cooking."

"But you're a passable cook," Steve says. He saunters up to the stove, right in front of Jonathan. "What _happened?”_

What happened was Jonathan got distracted by Nancy and Steve. He doesn't say that though. Just shrugs instead.

"'S okay. Don't worry 'bout it," he says. He tugs Jonathan forward by his waist and kisses him.

Jonathan tugs his fingers through Steve’s hair, kissing him back enthusiastically. A few seconds of this and then he pulls away, only to kiss Steve's cheek. "Sorry about burning breakfast. I wanted to do something nice, not test out our fire alarm."

"'S the thought that counts, right?" Steve mumbles. "Besides, Nance tried making me breakfast when we first moved in, and oh my god, you should've—"

"Stop talking shit about my lack of cooking skills," Nancy calls out incredulously, "and stop telling Jonathan how much of a shit cook I am!” Her voice breaks on the last word as she laughs despite herself.

"I don't need Steve to tell me horror stories to know how awful your cooking is," Jonathan teases. "You're perfect at everything else, but when it comes to using the stove, jeez—"

Nancy promptly marches up to him and shuts him up with a kiss. (They shuffle onto the sofa when Steve swats at them and tells them they can't fuck by the kitchen because it's a safety hazard.)

Fifteen minutes later, they sit around their small dining table. After Nancy and Jonathan wolf down his perfect scrambled eggs, Steve claps his hands. "I have an idea for our costumes."

"Yeah?" Nancy says.

"I put some serious thought into it, so don't say no without considering it. And this idea is good. It's perfect, actually, we won't ever be able to top this, but I'm okay with it, especially since it's our first Halloween as a couple, and—"

Underneath the table, Jonathan foots Steve's knee. "Your rambling is cute, but, you know. Get to the point, maybe?"

Steve closes his mouth and nods. He loudly drums his hands against the table _._ Jonathan and Nancy humour him, lightly drumming along with him. "The Scooby-Doo gang! Right? _Right?_ Those four were _so_ clearly in a poly relationship , totally into each other, and Catniss can be Scooby. We can't be the entire group, obviously, but we'll be close enough. I know exactly where to get the perfect costumes. Tell me you're in?"

Nancy nods eagerly. "I...I actually like it. I have no idea how I'll choose between Velma and Daphne, but fuck yes, I'm in. Jonathan?"

He was in the moment Steve eyes shone when he said he had an idea. "Hell yeah. Steve, do you wanna be Fred or Shaggy?"

"You're totally Shaggy," he says like it's obvious. Nancy hums in agreement.

He's not going to ask what _that_ means.

* * *

"Where the hell did you get our costumes from?" Jonathan says mostly in awe, staring at Steve from their bed. He faintly hears Nancy’s singing from the shower.

Steve chuckles and adjusts his collar. "My secret." He reaches for his comb on the dresser.

Jonathan groans so loudly that Steve whirls around, shooting him an incredulous look.

"Your hair is fine. Your hair is _always_ fine."

"Because I spend time on it."

Jonathan hops off their bed and strides toward Steve. He spins him around with one hand braced on his shoulder, the other swiping his comb from him. "This will take an hour. Even though it doesn't need a single second because, as always, you look great. Besides, you know Nance and I are going to ruin it after the party anyway. You look, you look _good_. I'm weirdly into the Fred-look."  

Steve looks ridiculously attractive in his Fred costume: the white shirt with blue collars, blue pants, and the temporary, blond hair-dye they spent twenty minutes helping him with the hour before. His hair is _blond,_ for crying out loud. But Steve's boyishly-charming grin lights up his face, and Jonathan's one-hundred percent ready to pounce on him.

"Oh, yeah? Well, _you’re_ pretty fucking hot right now as Shaggy," he says, looping his arms around Jonathan's neck.

Jonathan tries not to scoff, because he looks like, well, _Shaggy._ There's no way he looks good in his oversized green shirt and baggy pants. But Steve's moving in for a kiss, so, he's got a weird thing for Shaggy. Duly noted.

Jonathan presses him up against the nightstand, kissing him back, encouraged by the low sound from the back of Steve's throat.

He's about ready to say _fuck this party,_ who really needs to see their costumes anyway, when Steve abruptly pulls apart.

"Comb my hair?"

He blinks. Steve usually asks Nancy, something Jonathan always assumed they started back in high school. "Sure?" At first he considers it to be a strange request, but when he's sitting behind Steve back on their bed, his legs curled around his waist, he decides he likes it.

Steve hums and relaxes into Jonathan's touch. He doesn't ask Jonathan to stop, so he continues.

He only falters when he notices the stream of water from the shower has stopped, as well as any shuffling from the washroom.

"Nancy, are you watching us?"

"Maybe," Nancy says. He hears the smile in her voice. "I'm, uh, ready."

Jonathan and Steve turn around immediately, jaws slackening.

She's always beautiful, but he's never really prepared for it, never _not_ in awe of her. Her short hair is curlier than usual. They helped her with the temporary red hair-dye after they finished with Steve's. The hair, the purple dress, shoes, and headband, along with the green scarf will make sure that no one will have to think long about who she's dressed up as.

Nancy smirks. She looks stunning. Jonathan's brain lags in an attempt to think of something semi-coherent to say.

"You're both drooling," she says. Neither bother denying it. She grins smugly, climbing onto the bed and sitting directly behind Jonathan.

Steve splutters and gestures uselessly with his hands. "You're so—I can't— _Nance._ You're beautiful."

"Me, look at you, how do you look good in blond hair? And you," she says, pressing her hand against Jonathan's chest, "what the fuck, you're dressed up as someone named Shaggy. Stop looking good."

"Are you kidding—" They go back and forth, compliments delving into making out lazily, until Nancy eyes the clock.

"Shit, it's already nine! And my lipstick's already smudged, you _assholes._ Let's go!"

Catniss meows from a corner in the room. She's wrapped in a small outfit resembling Scooby Doo's brown fur and wearing a blue collar.

"Are you sure we can't take her?" Jonathan tries not to frown as he bends down, scooping her up in his arms.

"She's not going to have fun with all the people, the loud noises. Sorry, baby," Nancy sighs. Jonathan belatedly realizes her apology was directed to Catniss, not him, as she caresses the kitten's head.

They're out the door and settled in a cab within five minutes. They'd usually take the Subway, but the streets are busy and crowded thanks to it being Halloween. Winter also seems to have come rudely early, with the biting, cold wind. They'll take the easier, more convenient option, thank you very much.

"Who's party is this again?" Jonathan asks.

"Like you're going to know who they are," Steve says. That’s fair. "So I crushed the costumes, right? Absolutely killed it?"

"Is this your way of asking us to compliment you?" Nancy sounds amused.

"Oh, yes, definitely."

She laughs and snuggles further into Steve’s side, Jonathan naturally doing the same. "You killed it."

"And Catniss' outfit, too," Jonathan continues. "It fits perfectly. Did you—did you get it custom-made?"

"Maybe."

Nancy reaches across Steve to place her hand on Jonathan's arm. "Hey, we won't be out for long, okay? Just give us two hours."

He smiles, pressing his hand on top of hers. "Sure thing."

"Then we can go home and do other stuff," Steve says.

Jonathan can _see_ the stupid joke forming in his brain. "Other stuff," he repeats.

Nancy gets it out before he can: "Is that what we're calling each other these days?"

They don't miss how their cab-driver just slightly raises the volume of the radio. As if they weren't already laughing over something stupid to begin with.

Jonathan would rather be anywhere but at a crowded party with sweating, drunk people and loud music, but _they_ want to be there, so he can deal with it.

It's not his idea of a perfect Halloween—watching old horror films is, which is what he's doing with a few friends from school tomorrow—but he's with Nancy and Steve. That's perfect enough.

The party's at the campus of Nancy's university, deep in the heart of New York. It's stuffed with more people than Jonathan expected, music blaring and speakers in every corner of the large room. He tries to swallow his nervousness, smoothing his already-sweaty hands over his pants and ducking his head away from the people nearby.

It doesn't really work.

But they notice. They always do. Steve says in his ear, "Don't worry, you won't be alone," and Nancy laces their fingers and squeezes his hand.

Jonathan exhales. His heartbeat slowly steadies itself. He looks over at Nancy and Steve. He's good.

Shockingly, he doesn't recognize any of the music, except for the obligatory playing of _Thriller._ Nancy and Steve do recognize most of the songs, however. He laughs as they belt out the words to each other throughout the night.

Jonathan follows them around, greeting everyone that Nancy and Steve introduce him to. (He has no idea how Steve knows this many people at a school he doesn't attend.)

He recognizes a few of their friends, like Nancy's friend, Barb. She's dressed up as Velma. No wonder Nancy chose to be Daphne.

"I've gotta take a picture of this," he insists. He doesn't have his camera, the one Nancy and Steve gifted him for Christmas the previous year, so he uses his phone. He captures a few great photos until Nancy raises her eyebrows. He nods and sheepishly lowers his phone.

Nancy and Barb break into an excited chatter. He doesn't want to interfere with their time together, knowing it's been a few weeks since they've properly seen each other. He taps Nancy's shoulder and mouths, "I'm gonna find Steve."

Nancy leans forward to kiss his cheek. He brushes his hand against hers and smiles.

He waves to Barb. If there wasn't obnoxiously loud music playing, he'd remark about finally starting the show Barb recommended him and how he was already obsessed ten minutes in. He makes a mental note to text her about it later.

He turns around and squeezes past the groups of people, side-stepping carefully until he's standing by the sides. Finally, he thinks. _Breathing room._

After a few minutes of wandering, he finds Steve by the table of messily-lined up shots. He's talking to a couple of guys that Jonathan vaguely recognizes.

Steve's friends aren't assholes or anything; Jonathan gets along fine with them. But they're loud and so clearly drunk. He doesn't have the energy or willpower right now to handle _that_ much energy, unless it's Steve or Nancy.

So he waits in the corner, hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes skim over the room. There's a palpable carefreeness bouncing off the walls, radiating from the shrieks of laughter, slurred attempts at singing along. It's almost nice. Actually, it _is_ nice. It thoroughly distracts Jonathan from how _loud_ and hectic every inch of this party is.  

He plans on waiting to approach Steve until his friends leave. That doesn't happen, because Steve walks away from his friends and towards him.

Steve's grin is infectious. "Hi! I missed you," he says. He yanks Jonathan forward with a handful of his shirt. There goes the question of whether or not he had anything to drink.

"You too," Jonathan laughs out, stumbling forward. "Nancy's with Barb. You wanna talk to your friends?"

"Nah, I don't want to leave you by yourself," he says easily.  "Dance with me?"

Jonathan nods. There’s no way he can say no to that sweet, earnest smile.

He takes Steve's hand, happy to be dragged back into the crowd of people. No one pays them any attention. It's not like anyone would, but it still makes Jonathan relieved. Over Steve's shoulder, he spies Nancy, far-off on the other side of the room and still excitedly talking to Barb. He calms down again.

Right now, there's probably a hundred and something people at this party, hundreds more at this campus. Right now, he only notices them.

He's always been a stiff and awkward dancer. They never _really_ make fun of him. They'll smile, chuckle the way Steve does as he slings an arm around Jonathan's waist, make a teasing, good-natured comment, and that's it. Jonathan's always quick to relax when they gets their hands on him.

"I'm really happy you came tonight!" Steve shouts over the music.

Jonathan twirls Steve around and pulls him back closer. He gently presses his forehead against Steve's. "It's not a big deal," he dismisses.

Steve huffs. His hands leave Jonathan's waist to hold his face instead. "I know, but it is. To me and Nancy. We really appreciate it, you know? And you. We appreciate you."

This is a weird place to get emotional, to be overcome with the softest feelings he's ever known, and yet—

Jonathan brushes his lips against Steve's and kisses the tip of his nose. He hopes it says what he feels.

He _tries_ to say to find the right words, but it comes out like this: "I—you know—you both—" There are too many thoughts, too many _feelings_ he doesn't know how to describe without his camera or song lyrics. Steve's grin doesn't help.

"Did I just make you speechless?"

"Oh my god, I'm in love with a smug asshole," Jonathan says. They share a laugh, and he twirls Steve again, and it's good.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Nancy joins them. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are shining, and she looks blissful. "Hi guys!" She kisses their cheeks.

They make room for her, opening up space in between them. Jonathan slides his hands down to the small of her back.

"Nance! We missed you," Steve exclaims, reaching for her hand.

Nancy reaches for them, her hands curling at the back of their necks. "Oh, I missed you too! You look so pretty, did I tell you that? Jonathan, you too, oh my god, my boyfriends are so pretty—and you're dancing! Can I dance, too?"

Jonathan laughs. He brushes a few stray strands of hair out of Nancy's face. "Course. C'mere, you dork," he says, spinning her around.

Time passes quickly. Jonathan has fun from in between them, dancing without a care in the world. He feels like what a nineteen year-old ought to feel like: boundless, limitless, like the world is theirs and it’s theirs make better.  

Eventually, their 'dancing' becomes lazy, languid swaying. They all sweating, what with Steve’s moist upper-lip and Nancy’s hair plastered to her forehead. Probably also tired. Jonathan’s exhausted. He knows for a _fact_ that there are dark, prominent bags underneath his eyes.

Still, he doesn’t to mention leaving until one of them brings it up. It’s not like he’s having a bad time with them, either.

While Steve darts off to get bottles of water, Nancy wraps her arms around Jonathan’s neck. He catches a whiff of her perfume. She always smells good, when they're laying in bed in the morning, studying side-by-side, or when she drags them out for a jog in the afternoon.

It's probably weird that's he just sniffing her at this point. But her surprised smile, the way the corners of her mouth twist upwards, indicates that she finds it cute. She does it whenever Steve does something particularly adorable.

“Thanks for coming. I know you hate parties.”

Jonathan shrugs. "Yeah, but I love you, so."

"That might be the smoothest thing you've ever said," she laughs, nuzzling his neck. Her arms still hang around his neck and his arms naturally shift to her waist. Every bit of noise and movement surrounding him drowns out. He breathes her in, and thinks about how this is exactly where he wants to be.

Jonathan slowly pulls back so he can see Nancy's face. "Are you blushing?"

"I'm drunk. _And_ I'm sweating. I'm not blushing."

Jonathan raises an eyebrow.

"I'm _wearing_ blush?"

Jonathan laughs. He doesn't protest when she spins him around.

"I can get you all flustered too, you know. It's really not that hard."

"Sure you can--"

"Jonathan, did I tell you hot you look today? I think Steve's only getting water so he can _quench_ —ha, I got you!"

"You didn't get me, I'm just _laughing!_ "

"You're laughing, because you're _flustered._ "

"I'm laughing, because you're ridiculous and you said quench. Like. There's never a good to say quench. Ever."

When Steve returns, Nancy thanks him for 'quenching her thirst'. He understands what she's doing, and they make the worst jokes Jonathan's ever heard.

Six stupid jokes later, the music changes to a song Nancy and Steve adore. Jonathan decides that this will be the only time he'll _ever_ be thankful for today's pop music.

And not only because their ridiculous 'quench' jokes have ended, but because they go back to dancing. Less swaying, more subtle-grinding. It reminds him of the first time he saw them dancing, a year ago in a dingy club after midterms, and how stupidly hot he thought it was. Now, he's more-or-less thinking the same thing.

Maybe there _is_ a part of Jonathan that loves parties.

He surprises himself with the amount of fun he's having, so much so that he's even slightly disappointed when Nancy suggests they go back to their apartment. It's overshadowed by the idea of their warm apartment, of snuggling with Catniss, changing into their pyjamas. Of being _home._

They return to their apartment at one in the morning. Sex is immediately out of the question considering how tired they all are and how Nancy and Steve are still sobering up. (Knowing them, they'll probably throw on the costumes tomorrow, anyway, _because_.)

The first thing Jonathan does when he steps inside the apartment is pour two cups of water for Nancy and Steve. He turns away from the kitchen, ready to walk into their bedroom. He stops by the counter when he sees them laying on the sofa.

"Don't ya guys want to sleep?" Jonathan stifles a yawn, still staring at them.

"We can't," Nancy says. She fiddles with the remote for their tiny television. "Not 'till we've watched _Scream._ "

"We—what?"

Steve cranes his head from his spot on Nancy's shoulder. The look he sends Jonathan is soft, sleepy, and tugs at his heart. "It's the most iconic horror film of all time."

"You came with us to that party, so we're watching this _film._ C'mere, nerd."

Jonathan, stunned, walks to them and hands them each a cup of water. He carefully situates himself on Nancy's left, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and tugging Steve's legs onto his lap. He looks at them; at Nancy's eyebrows furrowed out of frustration as she connects an HDMI cable to her laptop, to Steve chugging his water down. Their costumes are wrinkled, Nancy's lipstick is smudged, Steve's hair is all over the place, and he loves them.

So he says it.

Nancy's pinched expression from getting the movie to play lets up. Steve smiles as he licks droplets of water from above his mouth.

"This better be as good as you're claiming it is," she says, setting her laptop down and leaning back into them.

Jonathan falls asleep twenty _minutes_ into the movie. He wakes up during the climax.

It's more like they wake him up with their loud commentary. He's in a new position, curled on both of their laps with Nancy's hand in his hair, Steve's hand on his back.

Steve shakes his head disapprovingly from Nancy's shoulder. "I trusted you, Skeet, I _trusted_ you," he shouts at the television.

"Let's be real here, we saw it coming. He's been shady the entire time. He’s got murder eyes. How could you trust him?"

"Nance, he's hot and charming and he deceived us, and I can't—holy shit!"

" _What!?_ "  

"That's Shaggy."

What, Jonathan thinks. What the actual fuck does that mean?

A brief silence ensues. "Holy shit," Nancy says, leaning back into the sofa. "That _is_ Shaggy. Same actor. Huh. Shaggy's one of the killers. That's insane. Wow, Steve. He really is a...meddling kid."

Steve's the first one to break into laughter, Nancy dissolving into giggles shortly. They laugh until they're shrieking. Nancy lightly elbows Steve, telling him to quiet down or else Jonathan will up.

"Actually, you already woke me up," Jonathan murmurs, not bothered in the slightest. He opens his eyes. He blinks, the fuzzy outline of Nancy and Steve slowly sharpening. He automatically smiles.

"Oh, shit," Nancy says.

"Don't worry—" They bend down and kiss him all over his face. Jonathan's swarmed with affection; from Nancy kissing his cheek, to Steve showering his forehead with kisses, _sorry's_ on the tips of their tongues. "Watch the movie," he wheezes. He tries to contain his laughter when Nancy starts jabbing his side.

He doesn't bother pretending that he wants them to knock it off. There's no way it'd be convincing, not when he's _grinning_ like an idiot.

"But we'd rather watch you instead," Steve says. Nancy nods firmly.

 _God, I'm in love with dorks,_ Jonathan muses, right as Sidney kills Stu. This causes Nancy and Steve to lose their shit and start yelling at the screen.

 _My dorks,_ he thinks fondly.

Jonathan just _knows_ the apartment will be covered in Christmas decorations by the time he wakes up tomorrow. He raises his head, glancing over the assortment of Halloween decorations, of witches and pumpkins and that damn coffin. Takes one final look.

A ghost of a smile spreads across Jonathan’s lips at the handiwork of his boyfriend and girlfriend. He settles back down in their laps, careful to avoid the fist Nancy’s shaking at the screen and Steve’s hands flying all over the place. He loves watching them watch films, but his eyes keep drooping. He’ll make sure to watch their reactions to _Scream 2_ next time.

He snuggles into their arms. He curls his fingers around Nancy's and presses his palm against Steve's hand with his eyes closed.

Content, Jonathan falls back asleep to Nancy and Steve's loud, but, strangely enough, soothing cheering. His half-asleep guess is that this is the part where Sidney's shot Billy.

 

 

Best Halloween ever.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a bit umm??? about the characterization and how i wrote their relationship, but this was the first thing i've written in two months and it's gotten me back into my 'groove', so i'm pleased w/ this regardless. 
> 
> thank you for reading! comments/kudos are appreciated. i hope you have a nice day! :)
> 
> and again, happy halloween!


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